


a hundred yachts (but i was taken by the suck of the sea)

by eight_0f_hearts



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lieutenant Duckling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1457326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eight_0f_hearts/pseuds/eight_0f_hearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zelena's messing about with time travel accidentally brings past versions of Emma and Killian to Storybrooke, forcing them to confront how they have changed and how they see themselves in the present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A somewhat crappy attempt to overcome my current writer's block.

When the green smoke cleared, the first thing Emma looked for was Zelena. She was nowhere to be seen.

The second thing she looked for was Hook.

The two of them had been closest to the mysterious explosion that had occurred when they raced to try and stop Zelena from whatever she was cooking up smack-bang in the middle of Storybrooke's main road. She turned to find him clambering to his feet to her left, looking none the worse for wear.

Mary Margaret, David and the others were already hurrying towards them, looking concerned.

“We're alright!” Emma called out, brushing down her jeans as she stood up. “I don't know what the hell just happened, but it doesn't seem to have done-” she broke off as she heard a loud groan from behind her, turning slowly.

“...anything,” she finished, and took a step back as she struggled to process what she could see in front of her.

Lying in the middle of the road were a man and a woman. The man in some sort of Renaissancey looking naval uniform, which, okay, weird.

The woman...

Emma recognised that leather jacket, that blonde ponytail, those glasses. _It can't be._ She vaguely realised that she was gaping, her mouth hanging open, struck speechless as she could do little more than stare as the woman – the _girl_ – scrambled to her feet, looking a bit dazed, before she finally turned to Emma.

It was like staring into a mirror.

A mirror back in time to 10 years ago, because that was _her_ – that was her from 10 years ago, and Zelena had been trying to go back in time but obviously something had gone _horribly wrong and_ -

_it's not possible –_

_it's not possible –_

_it_ can't _be possible –_

“Oh, bloody hell, no, no, _no_ ,” she heard Hook mutter behind her, and managed to wrench her gaze away from _herself_ for a moment. The colour had drained from his face as he stared at the young uniformed man in abject horror, and when Emma turned back around it _hit her_.

That was Hook. Young Hook, somewhere in his early twenties probably, and God, he looked different – hair longer, tied in a slightly dishevelled ponytail; he didn't have the hardness about him that Hook had, that look like there was something horribly heavy weighing down on his shoulders, the condensed pain of 300 years of bottled up anger in his eyes.

“What's going on?” And that was the teenaged Emma speaking. “Where am I, what's-” Her gaze latched onto Emma and she stared at her for a moment before her eyes began to widen. “ _What is going on_?!”

“Don't panic!” David and the others had reached them now, Mary Margaret stepping forward to take control of the situation. She'd obviously recognised the younger versions of Emma and Hook, and was managing to control her surprise and confusion admirably, forcing a bright smile. “Please don't panic!”

The sight of a heavily pregnant woman waddling towards them really did not seem to reassure the two. At least for the moment the younger Hook seemed confused enough by his suddenly modern surroundings that he was doing little more than stare around and rub his eyes as though he was trying to work out if he was dreaming.

Young Emma was not so compliant.

“What the _fuck_ is going on?” she demanded. “Who are you and why do you look _exactly_ like me?!”

She was striding towards Emma now, who could do little more than stand there, her thoughts a confusing whirl of _shit shit shit this is messed up what am I meant to say_ and _do I really look like that_ and _is this pre-Neal or post-Neal?_

This last thought she could work out fairly quickly. _Pre-Neal_. The keychain wasn't there yet.

“I am you from the future,” she replied immediately, and her counterpart stopped in her tracks.

“ _What_.”

“Look, a second ago you were, what, in Portland?” Emma spoke quickly, the words tumbling out over each other as she fought to gain some control over the situation. “This probably sounds crazy, but I'm you from the future. You've fallen through a time portal. I can prove it. Smith, two years three months, Weber, six months, Ramsay, three months, Ascott, one year five months...”

She continued, rattling off the names she'd committed to memory – the names of every foster family she had passed through. The younger Emma stared at her with wide eyes and growing confusion.

“-so you see,” she finished finally, “I'm not lying, okay. You've fallen ten years into your future. There's a whole bunch of magical shit going down here. I know you probably still don't believe me, but just bear with it for now, okay? We'll try send you back as soon as possible-”

Before she could get a reply, there was a commotion from behind her, and both she and her counterpart turned to find that young Hook had apparently come to his senses and was now rather confused and more than a little distressed.

“I demand to know where I am,” he said, and apparently having decided that David looked sufficiently authoritative, strode up to him.

David look equal parts amused and concerned. Emma didn't blame him; the ponytail was a little bit funny.

“An act of sorcery has sent you to an alternate realm,” he replied.

To Emma's great relief, young Hook actually seemed to _accept_ this. Apparently world-jumping was a much bigger thing wherever he was from in his younger days.

“Then how shall I return?” he asked. “And where, pray tell, am I?”

“The land without magic,” David explained, “Actually, you're in the future...” he turned towards Hook, obviously with the intention of explaining the full situation, only to find that the pirate had slunk back towards the middle of the group of onlookers – Regina, Belle, Tink, Ruby et al – and was all but hiding behind them.

“Uh,” David said, but young Hook had already followed his gaze. It took him a few moments of staring before a frown began descending over his features.

“That man looks very much like me,” he said, slowly.

“Oh, for _God's sake_.” Regina had lost patience by now. They may have stopped Zelena from enacting her plan presently, but the witch was still out there. “That's because he _is_ you. He's you from the future. And that is Emma from the future. Magic exists, la la la, here is your proof,” she summoned a fireball into her hand and young Emma flinched back, eyes wide. “So can we _please_ stop lollygagging and actually return to doing something halfway productive?”

With that speech, she turned and marched her way off down the street, taking Robin with her. Most of the others dispersed, to Emma's relief – it would be much easier explaining things without an audience – until only she, Hook and her parents remained, staring at their two past selves.

“...well,” young Emma said, looking a little winded. “I would normally say this is a prank, but no one knows enough about me to prank me with such detail. So maybe I'm dreaming, or maybe I've been abducted by aliens or time travelled or whatever. Either way, send me the hell back as soon as possible?”

Emma let out a huff of relief. “Trust me, we will,” she replied. She knew the younger version or herself was more likely than not still incredibly confused, definitely still didn't believe them, and was probably internally freaking out – but as long as she was at least pretending to be outwardly calm, they could try and deal with this and then forget it had ever happened.

Hook, however, was not so lucky.

“I don't understand,” his past self insisted. He was still addressing David, seemingly having latched onto the man as his source of all information and guidance.

Hook himself finally stepped forward with a look of weary resignation.

“Like it or not, mate, it's happening,” he said grimly. “I am you, you am I, etcetera.”

“Where is your _hand_ ,” was the first thing the other said upon looking him over and being very concerned by what he found.

“No longer existent,” Hook replied, with the fakest smile Emma had ever seen.

“But why should I become a _pirate_?”

“For very good reasons that you really do not need to know right now. Shall we take this out of the street?” he added, glancing at Emma, who nodded.

“Yeah – yeah. Back to the loft?” she suggested, and Mary Margaret nodded, clapping her hands together briskly.

They began trudging their way there in a somewhat awkward silence. Emma still couldn't quite believe that this was happening. As she watched the eyes of her own younger self dart about from person to person, sizing them up and obviously trying to work out exactly who they all were and what was going on, she realised exactly how messy this situation could get.

 

* * *

 

“Fairytales,” the young Emma Swan said flatly.

For the sake of convenience, they had decided to refer to the time-travelled incarnations of Emma and Hook as Swan and Jones respectively. And then attempted to explain exactly what Storybrooke was to them, whereupon they realised that it sounded much more confusing out loud than it did after having lived through it.

“Yes,” Emma replied.

Swan glanced at Mary Margaret and David. “You're telling me these are my _parents_.” Her tone was flat but Emma could detect the underlying pain. She felt a pang – it had been hard enough accepting things when she was twenty-eight and had been living in the town for nigh on a year. She couldn't imagine how it must sound at seventeen, fresh out of the foster system, living on the streets as a thief.

“Yes,” she added. Then, “Like I said before. You don't have to believe it. Just... sit tight until we find a way to send you back.”

Swan threw her hands up. “Fine with me! I'll just sit here and let you sort things out.” She glanced at Jones, sitting beside her with his head lowered, apparently still processing. “What about Commodore Norrington over there?”

“You said everyone from our world had been sent to this town,” Jones said slowly. He glanced up, eyes fixing on David. Since they arrived in the loft, and for the entire trip there, he had seemed entirely unable to look at Hook for more than a few seconds. The feeling went both ways. “Is my brother here?”

Hook, lurking in the corner with arms folded, jerked upright at this. Emma glanced at him in concern, but his face had shuttered over with a carefully blank expression.

“Liam is not here,” Hook said flatly.

Jones finally looked at him, staring at him challengingly. “Why?”

Oh, _God_. Emma could barely watch. She didn't know the exact details of what had gone down with Liam Jones, but she knew enough that it was messy, and she couldn't even imagine what Hook must be thinking. What he could even say to explain things without completely shattering his younger self?

He eventually settled on, “Not _everybody_ from our land is here. Some travelled to other realms. Some were out of the reach of the curse.”

This seemed to satisfy Jones, as he leaned back in his seat and proceeded to stare at every modern appliance in the room, trying to work out what they all did.

“...I'll go visit Belle,” Mary Margaret said then. “Regina too. See if they can work out exactly how to fix this. You other should stay here with them, try keep them calm.”

“I'll go with you,” Emma said, but Mary Margaret shook her head.

“Emma,” she said, stepping forward and dropping her voice to avoid the others hearing. “You're the only person here who _remotely_ knows where that... where Swan is at. She's probably terrified.”

 _She is definitely terrified,_ Emma thought.

“She needs you here,” Mary Margaret said softly. “I know it's weird, but...”

“I get it,” Emma replied. “You go then. Be careful.”

Mary Margaret smiled. She waved at Swan, who gave her a jaunty wave back, and then swept out of the room. Emma wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry at the memory that at that age she had been a walking facade of confidence with very little to back it up.

“I think now's the part where you show me new Nickelback albums to convince me that I'm in the future,” Swan piped up, in the silence that followed Mary Margaret's departure.

“...actually can do,” Emma replied, pushing her chair back and standing.

Her younger self looked surprised for a moment, then frowned, then seemed to think _fuck it, just roll with it_ , and followed her to her bedroom.

They were three steps into the room when Emma realised what a terrible idea it had been to bring her in here.

“Who's this?” Swan asked, making a beeline for the bedside table. There was a photograph of Emma and Henry on there. One of Neal, too – she'd placed it there after his death. If there was one thing she regretted, it was that she didn't have a proper picture of Graham. There was one grainy phone photo she'd had as his caller ID, but apart from that.... she didn't like the thought of forgetting what he'd looked like.

“That's Henry,” Emma began slowly. _Should I tell her?_

“He Mary Margaret and David's kid?” Swan asked, picking up the photo with a frown.

“Uh, no.” _Damn it_. “He's actually mine. Yours.”

An awkward silence.

“...ours,” Emma finished a touch lamely.

Swan's frown deepened. “He looks kind of old. What is he, nine, ten?”

“Twelve,” Emma replied, and ran her hands over her face, suddenly feeling very old and very tired.

The horror that flashed across Swan's face physically hurt her. “That means...?” She slammed the photo down on the table. “I'm what, eighteen when I get pregnant?”

“Don't freak out!” Emma sat on the bed and gestured for her to sit down too. She wasn't surprised when the girl didn't obey, instead pacing the room, looking at her books, her photos, even the clothes in her wardrobe.

“This is messed up,” Swan muttered. “Who's the father?”

“You haven't met him yet.”

“Can you at least tell me his _name_?”

Emma bit her lip.

“Neal,” she choked out finally. “His name was Neal.”

“ _Was_?”

 _This is getting worse and worse_ , Emma thought. She rubbed her face again.

She had always hated those questions, 'if you could go back in time and give yourself one piece of advice, what would it be'. And now she was in a living, breathing scenario of it. The past should stay in the past, she'd learned that the hard way. And having an abrupt callback to what she'd been like as a teenager was starting to stir up unwanted memories.

She forced herself to sit up straight. _I'm the saviour now. I'm a proud mother. This broken girl – she's not me any more_.

“You don't need to know about him. I'm pretty sure messing about with that sort of thing will, I don't know, cause some sort of paradox that might destroy the universe. So please sit down,” she said, voice just authoritative enough that Swan startled for a moment, then obeyed.

“This is very weird, just so you know,” the girl muttered.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it.” She pulled her laptop over from the bedside table and opened google. “Okay, Nickelback.”

Swan was very quiet as Emma showed her proof and more proof that she was, indeed, a decade into the future. Emma was overly aware of her presence beside her on the bed; she didn't even need to look at her to tell how uncomfortable she was, how confused and lost and alone. It dredged up Neverland, things she thought she had confronted and put behind her but was suddenly facing all over again.

“Don't suppose you can tell me the lottery numbers for 2004?” Swan piped up finally.

Emma scoffed out a laugh. “I think that counts as messing with the time-space continuum.”

“Worth a shot.” A pause. “So, they're my – _our_ – parents, then?”

Emma closed the laptop and ran a hand over her hair. “Yeah.”

“Was it... weird?”

“Finding out that the people I'd been building up in my mind my whole life were Snow White and Prince Charming? Of course it was weird. But I got... used to it, I suppose.” She bit her lip. The girl beside her wasn't a stranger, it was _herself_. She couldn't bring herself to lie or hold back. “I still don't... sometimes it still feels strange. More so with Mary Margaret than with David, because we knew each other as friends first. I still don't see them as my parents in the way I always pictured they would be. But we're still... we're a family.”

Swan was very silent. Emma could tell she was still hesitant to believe it – couldn't quite comprehend the fact that she might ever end up with a family in the future; with something loving and stable and _constant_.

It broke her heart.

Before she could say any more, there was a knock on the doorframe and she glanced up to see David. For a horrible moment she thought he had overheard what she just said, but quickly realised he hadn't; he seemed distracted more than anything else.

“Need to talk to you,” he said. The _urgently_ was implied.

“I'll be back in a sec,” Emma said. She slid the laptop over to Swan. “Google away!”

David ushered her out of the room to the corridor.

“Hook skipped out,” he said, voice low.

Emma blinked. “What do you mean, skipped out?”

“I mean he left,” David said. “And I have no idea what to do with Jones out there.”

“What? Start from the beginning, why'd he leave?”

David ran a hand through his hair, looking frazzled. “He got into a fight with his younger self. Well, not a fight, exactly. We broke out the rum, because God knows we all need a drink right now, only it turns out Lieutenant Jones has one mighty stick up the backside when it comes to alcohol. He kept poking Hook with questions about why exactly he would end up as a pirate and he got annoyed and walked out.”

Emma bit her lip.

“And now,” David said, throwing his hands up in frustration, “I've spent the last half hour trying to explain the concept of a television to Jones, and I'm pretty sure not a word of it sunk in. He's panicking internally, and I don't blame him. I need something to work with.”

“In terms of what?”

“In terms of at least beginning to explain to him what he's like in this future,” David said. “Think about it. If you met yourself in ten years time and they were a completely different person to what you were now, you'd be... well, a bit alarmed, I should say.”

Emma pressed her lips together. She wondered what Swan thought of her. She got the impression that beyond the suspension of disbelief at the whole magical fairytale part of it, the girl was disappointed that her parents weren't 'normal', that she was running around caught in the middle of a town crisis involving the Wicked Witch of the West. Emma couldn't blame her; from the outside it hardly seemed like she had her life put together.

_Do I have my life put together?_

For the longest time she had felt like she was more desperately holding things in place than actually _enjoying_ what she was living. The rude shock of finding out that eleven years of her life had been false implanted memories hadn't helped her feel any better about it recently.

But now, settling back into the routine of Storybrooke and family and being the saviour...

She shook her head. Now wasn't the time to go all existential crisis.

Whatever young Emma was feeling, Lieutenant Jones was probably in an even worse state, considering part of his job most likely consisted of _hunting down_ pirates.

“I'll go fetch him,” she said with a sigh.

David caught her arm as she headed for the door.

“Sure you don't want me to go?” he asked.

She shook him off. “Nah – I think young me is pretty occupied by the internet right now. You stay here. Hook's.....” she trailed off, unsure, but David smiled encouragingly and she continued. “I think Hook's more likely to listen to me. No offence,” she added with a small grin, trying to hide the slightly awkward flush saying it aloud gave her.

David nodded. “No, you're right. Hurry back.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait this chapter! I lost all inspiration for reasons unknown.

Seventeen year old Emma Swan clumsily moved her finger across the laptop's trackpad. It took her a moment to work out how to close the internet window. This strange mac computer was nothing like Windows.

It had been almost twenty minutes since her older self had left the apartment, and the voices of the two men in the other room had just fallen silent after a period of extended conversation.

Emma closed the laptop and got to her feet. She cast a final glance around the room before she ventured out back into the main part of the loft. There was no sign of David, but Lieutenant Jones was seated on the couch looking quite lost. He sat very stiffly, hands clasped together in his lap, seeming rather averse to touching anything in the apartment.

When he saw Emma he glanced up and gave a brief sort of smile.

“Sup,” Emma said, moving to stand in front of him. “Where's David?”

“He went outside to....” he trailed off, looking rather unsure, and then waved his hands about in a way that communicated absolutely nothing to her.

“To what?”

“To... speak. Into his... device.”

“Phone?” Emma asked, drily, and Jones just gave a helpless shrug. She stared at him. Despite the internet evidence to the contrary, a large part of her still suspected that this was either some sort of elaborate practical joke or a very peculiar dream.

Either way, she had decided that sitting around waiting for her 'future-self' to come back was not to her taste.

“Right then,” she said, and crossed to David's jacket, left slung over the back of a chair. She dug about in his pockets and to her delight found his car keys and wallet. She pocketed them quickly.

“What are you doing?” Jones demanded. She turned to find he'd risen from his seat and taken a few steps towards her.

She shrugged. “Getting the hell out of here.”

“But _why_?”

“Because these people are crazy? I mean, really – fairytales, time travel... they expect me to _believe_ them?”

“I thought Miss Swan had shown you evidence to prove the validity of her claims.”

Emma gave a measured shrug. “Still weird. Still not convinced. Still finding it very hard to believe that I find my parents in the future, let alone that they are my age and apparently come straight out of a Disney movie.”

“Disney...?”

Emma shook her head with a sigh. “Either way, I'm leaving. You can come with if you like.”

“But... where?”

“Explore? They said we're in Maine, maybe we can get to New York.” She realised quickly that the names of these places meant zilch to him. “Hey, maybe we'll run into someone you know from this magical fairytale land.”

Jones hesitated, still looking uncertain, and at that moment Emma heard David's voice rise outside the door, as though he was ending his conversation and about to come back inside. Quickly she ran to the window, opened it, and swung herself out and onto a nearby drainpipe running down the wall. It was little difficulty to climb down and jump to the ground. She landed in a neat crouch and looked up to find that Jones had, it seemed, decided to follow her. She caught his arm as he landed.

“Great,” she said, with a small grin. She twirled the car keys around her finger. “Now let's find some transport.”

There was a truck parked around the front of the building. To her relief the keys worked in the ignition.

Jones was hovering outside the car, looking confused as all hell.

“What is this? Some form of magically powered carriage?”

Emma squinted at him, wondering if he really was some sort of hired actor in period dress trying to mess with her. “You really don't know what a car is? Look, just get in.”

He got in, warily.

“And... shut the door?”

He shut the door.

“And put on your- ugh, okay, let's just get out of here.” She revved the engine and drove off, heading around the block before taking a guess as to the direction of the main street. “Hey, do me a favour and look for a map, will you? You do know what a map is, right?”

“Of course I know what a map is,” he replied, sounding a little affronted, and managed to open the glovebox without too much drama.

Having found a map it was not long before they were headed for the main road and the town's exit. Jones sat in silence, staring out the window. He didn't look so much awed by their surroundings as confused and intrigued. Emma glanced across at him.

“So what was your name again?”

“Killian. Lieutenant Killian Jones.”

“Lieutenant. So you're in the army?”

“Navy.”

“Right. The Enchanted Forest navy.”

“That is correct.” He gave her a suspicious sidelong stare as though he thought she was mocking him, and she smiled innocently.

“So you really think that a portal appeared out of nowhere and you just... fell through it and ended up here?”

“It is not unheard of,” he replied, “Where I am from.”

“Well, it's pretty damn unheard of where _I'm_ from.”

“David referred to this as the land without magic. I would imagine that's why. Even so... time travel is not something that I had thought possible,” he said with a small frown.

“Your supposed 'older self' looks a lot like you,” Emma said, without really thinking about it.

“Likewise. But you still doubt that it's true?”

She bit her lip. “I guess... it's just a lot to take in. It's not exactly where I saw myself in ten years time, you know?”

He gave a snort. “You can say that again.”

“What's up?"

“I just don't _understand_ why I would become a pirate,” he said, sounding incredibly frustrated. “They are everything I can't stand. Thieves and lawless vagabonds, fugitives from the law that roam about taking what they please with no sense of honour.”

_Thieves and lawless vagabonds,_ Emma thought, and tried her very best not to look too guilty.

“You're telling me, buddy. Didn't expect that my life would turn all Princess Diaries in a decade's time.”

“At least you're not missing any limbs,” Jones said drily, and she couldn't help but snort out a laugh.

“It is not funny,” he insisted, which only made her laugh harder. “It's not! It's very alarming!”

“Sorry, sorry, I know,” she grinned. “Look, he said he had a good reason, didn't he? Maybe you fell on hard times and it was the only way to survive.” Truth be told she was a little offended by his 'no sense of honour' comment. It wasn't like she herself made a point of stealing from those who couldn't spare it. She tried to rob chains more than anything, anyway.

“I'm in the navy. What hard times could I fall on?”

“Maybe you were kicked out.”

“That's even worse.”

“Perhaps you fall in love with a young noblewoman only she's kidnapped by the dread undead Captain Barbossa and in the course of rescuing her you are forced to make an alliance with a group of pirates. And then you end up on the wrong side of the law and have to go on the run and inadvertently end up a pirate yourself. Eh?” She nudged him with her elbow, grinning, and then swore when she nearly missed a turn in the road.

Jones looked like he was actually _considering_ her suggestion, which amused her to no end. He finally shook his head.

“No. Barbossa is a mere legend.”

“Right. Of course he is. But Captain Hook isn’t.”

The mention of the hook had him grimacing mightily and she couldn’t help but laugh again.

“You know, though,” she added, unable to keep her mouth shut, “Not everyone becomes a ‘fugitive of the law’ or whatever just out of… selfishness, or because they think they’re above the rules. Not every ‘criminal’ is, well, a criminal.”

He didn’t answer for a long moment, and when she glanced over at him he was staring out the window again, though his eyes passed blankly over their passing surroundings, as though he was lost in thought somewhere else.

“I’ve some experience in the matter,” he said finally.

“Me too,” she replied.

“People steal to survive,” he continued. “Or to provide themselves opportunities they’d not otherwise have. But most – most! – will be vagabonds who evade justice, who behave with dishonour. Rules are there for a reason. To stop people committing injustices to others. That man,” he said, seeming unable to relate the pirate to himself, “He’s full of anger and hate, I can tell. That’s not _me_. That can’t be me. Whatever notions I may have had in my youth towards piracy as a means to get ahead, to provide for myself – those ended when I joined the military. My brother is a noble man and he showed me that following the rules, building yourself up through rank and good form – _that_ is the sort of man I am. Not a pirate.”

Emma had no idea what to say, chiefly because she had no idea who this person sitting next to her was – either now or in the future. She hadn’t been able to tell who ‘Hook’ was to the older Swan. A friend, most likely; he had seemed well acquainted with both her and her family.

She couldn’t help but see herself in him. The look in his eyes when he spoke of stealing to survive – the anger he held towards the thought of ‘vagabonds evading justice’ – something in it reminded her of her resentment towards those who had abandoned her, the lostness she’d felt just after her escape from the foster system.

_He’s a stranger,_ she reminded herself, _just some random stranger. Don’t start getting in and deep with anyone here. They’re all crazy._

“At least you changed the hair,” she settled on saying. He looked surprised for a moment, and then vaguely offended, but when he half-glared at her she could see the small smile he was desperately trying to hold back, and couldn't help but grin in response.

 

* * *

 

Emma checked Granny’s first, purely because it was closer. She was unsurprised to find that Hook was not there. She drove to the docks next, absently scanning the water for the Jolly Roger, and was a bit concerned when she realised there was no sign of it. Had he left?

Her fears were abated, however, when she spied Hook wandering along the water’s edge, shoulders hunched, practically radiating broodiness.

She approached him silently, not trying to sneak up but not particularly knowing what to say either. When he noticed her he stopped, staring out at the water, until she came to stand beside him.

“Alright?” she asked, finally, looking over at him.

He huffed out a breath, and gave a blank sort of smile that she really didn’t know how to interpret. “Fine, love. And yourself?”

Her immediate instinct was to say ‘fine’ as well; the sort of automatic lie she had always used as a defence mechanism, a way of keeping her walls up. But then she remembered why she was here – not just to fetch him back to the apartment but to find out what was going on – and, deep down, to at least discuss what had happened with the only other person who could remotely understand what she was going through.

“Confused,” she admitted. “Not particularly enjoying this blast to the past.”

He looked over at her and his fake smile faded a little. “Are you…?”

“What? Oh. I’m fine, I’m not about to have some sort of horrible regression back to my teenage years.” She scoffed out a laugh. “But it’s… unsettling. Having to see how I… was.”

“Tell me about it,” he muttered.

She nudged him with her elbow. “Is it the ponytail?” she asked, and he blinked a few times before letting out a mock-scowl that had her breaking down into giggles.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, as he continued to frown. “It just. It is kind of funny.”

“The style was popular at the time,” he informed her.

“Sure it was.” She recovered, straightening up again. “Really though. I don’t… I know I’m not _her_ anymore. I have family here, I have friends. I’m not that homeless teenager stealing to survive.” He stiffened a little and she realised she’d never straight-out admitted that part of her past before. She was almost surprised at how easily it had slipped out. Barrelling on, “But still, it’s… it seems like she’s disappointed in what I am now. And that sucks.” A scoff. “Really, _really_ sucks.”

“Whatever her feelings, you at least ended up _finding_ your family,” Hook said. “Rather than losing them all, and a limb, and, as far as he is concerned, all sense of moral conduct.”

“That’s not true, though,” Emma began, and he turned to her abruptly, almost making her jump.

“Isn’t it, Swan?” he demanded.

“Of course not.”

“What am I, then? What have I become? A one-handed pirate with a drinking problem.” He said it as though he was quoting someone else and for a moment Emma couldn't help but frown, a surge of almost protectiveness coming over her – _who was it? Gold?_ – before she forced it down.

“An honourable man,” she said firmly. “Someone who risked his life to help me find Henry in Neverland. Whatever you've done in the past, you've put that behind you. You're not just a pirate, Hook. Not anymore.”

He smiled again, this time sad, and looked back out at the water. “You'd be surprised.”

She had no idea what that was supposed to mean, and wondered again what had happened in the forgotten year that he wasn't telling her.

“David wants you to come back to the apartment,” she said finally. “You need to help young-you adjust.”

He flapped a hand at her. “He'll be fine. I've always been adaptable. Comes with not staying in one spot too long.”

She bit her lip – _just like me_ – and tried again. “I mean it. I sat down and sort of hashed things out with... well, with myself. I don't know if I quite got through to her but at least she sort of knows what happened to me.”

“And what am I supposed to tell myself, then?” he demanded. “That my brother _dies_? That Milah dies? That I spent 300 years in the worst damn realm of the lot, seeking revenge? That man, no, that _boy_ ,” he thrust a hand back in the direction of the inner-town and the apartment, “is in one of the few stages of his life when he was actually _happy_. He's not... he's not _broken yet_. Am I supposed to break him? That won't help. That'll make things worse.”

He turned away, shoulders hunched over again, and Emma ached to reach out and touch him but couldn't quite think how.

“I know, alright?” she said. “It's the same with me. She hasn't met Neal yet, he hasn't... she has some issues, sure, but she hasn't hit the worst of it yet. It's made me realise exactly what he did to me.”

“But?” he asked.

“But it's also made me see how far I've come. How much being here, in Storybrooke, with my son – how much that's shaped me.” She reached out then, put her hand on its elbow. “It might not be what I expected when I was seventeen, but it's more than I had back then. It's … it's enough.”

He stared at her measuringly as though unsure whether she really meant what she was saying. Emma held his gaze, but couldn't help still feeling uncertain. It was one thing to say the words, another to fully realise their truth – which she hadn't, she registered, a cold feeling beginning to creep through her stomach.

Not when she was still considering going back to New York.

Not when 'Mary Margaret' and 'David' still rolled off her tongue more easily than 'Mum' and 'Dad' did.

Hook noticed – of course he noticed – and looked away with a sigh. She reached out again, but before she could make contact her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out and frowned as she saw the caller ID.

“David?” she asked, and Hook turned back at the name. “What is it?”

“ _They're gone_ ,” David replied. Emma stiffened.

“What do you mean, they're gone?"

Hook pulled a questioning face at her and she pulled an 'I don't know' one back.

“ _I left the room to take a call and when I came back they had vanished. And so had my truck – and my wallet. I think they climbed out the window!”_

Emma wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry, or facepalm. Or all of the above. “Oh, God. Of _course_ she did.”

“ _It was her –_ you _, then?”_

“Yeah, it was me. Probably dragged Jones along with her. Look, they can't have gotten far – there's only one road out of town. I'll head after them, you meet us there, alright?”

“ _Are you with Hook?"_

“Yeah. Town line's closer to the docks than it is the apartment – we can probably get there first. I'll see you there.” She hung up, turning to Hook with an exasperated grin.

“So as you probably worked out from my half of the conversation, my counterpart has stolen David's truck and made a run for it. Pretty sure the good Lieutenant went with her.”

Hook grimaced. “Best catch them quickly. Without knowing more about this curse, who can tell what will happen if they cross the town line.”

She nodded, grimly, and he followed her to the car.

“Why would they leave?” Hook asked with a frown as they set on their way. “Where could they be going?”

Emma bit her lip. “I think... I don't think she believes me. I mean, I don't know what else there is to believe, I pretty well proved that she had travelled in time, but.... I don't know. I guess that's all I've ever been good at.”

He shot her a questioning look, and she gave a rather stiff smile.

“Running.”

Hook looked away. For a moment he looked about to say something, but didn't, and Emma felt her smile fade away as she turned her attention back to driving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not at all happy with this chapter but I have a reasonable sort of idea for the last one, so. Push on push on, haha.


	3. Chapter 3

On a scale of one to Rumplestiltskin, Killian's past self was a solid Ariel in terms of _people he never wanted to interact with again._

Yes, it was that bad.

If it had at least been his post-Milah past self (or even post-Liam pre-Milah) it would have been easier to deal with. Anything but the wide-eyed lieutenant whose stick-up-the-backside, follow-the-regulations-mentality was little more than a shallow cover, a desperate attempt to be something else, something _more_ , than the deadbeat fugitive father who had left him behind all those years ago.

It was worth nothing, in the end. He had become a pirate after about ten seconds worth of thought.

But Lieutenant Jones didn't know that. Until he lived that decision, he couldn't possibly understand it (not unless Killian revealed Liam's fate, not unless he told him – _broke him –)._

Then again, would that be so much worse than letting him believe he had genuinely regressed to the role of criminal and thief, no matter how hard he tried to strive for something better?

Emma remained grim and silent as they drove towards the town line, seeming lost in thought. Killian watched her in the car's side mirror, wondering just what was going through her head. It had been a shock, see her young self – almost as much as seeing his own had been. There was something a little heartbreaking about how early her walls had gone up – how very alone the teenaged Swan had seemed.

“There,” he said suddenly, breaking her out of her reverie as he pointed. As they turned onto the straight road leading out of Storybrooke, he caught sight of David's truck up ahead.

“Got 'em.” Emma floored the accelerator, the little yellow bug jumping ahead. The others were driving fairly slowly, not having noticed they were being pursued yet, and it wasn't long before Emma pulled up alongside them and then turned, swinging the car around to block the path of the truck and forcing them to pull to a halt.

“ _Dammit_!” he heard young Swan shout, through the open window, and couldn't quite help but grin a bit as he followed Emma out of the car.

“Nice try,” Emma said, as she pulled open the truck door and yanked out her younger counterpart. “Where exactly did you think you were going?”

Jones got out with a little more dignity, looking almost sheepish at having been caught trying to skip town. His gaze flickered towards Killian before he looked away. Killian made no move to touch him or speak to him, still unsure what to do or say.

“What, are we _prisoners_ here?” Swan demanded, lifting her chin.

“Actually, yes,” Emma snapped back, and pushed her jacket aside to reveal her badge. “I happen to be the Sheriff of Storybrooke and you just _stole a car_ , so...”

Swan's eyes went almost comically wide when she saw the badge. Then she began to laugh hysterically, which Killian found rather alarming.

“Oh my God. Oh my fucking God, that's it, that's the last straw, either I'm officially crazy or you are.”

“What are you on about?” Emma demanded, and Swan covered her face with her hands, shoulders still shaking.

“The sheriff. As if I find my family and become the fucking _sheriff_.”

“What's a sheriff?” Jones asked quietly, taking a step closer to Killian.

He was a bit surprised the other was actually _talking_ to him, let alone voluntarily.

“Um. A type of lawkeeper,” he replied, after a moment of slightly awkward staring.

Emma didn't quite seem to know what to do.

“You need to come back with us,” she said finally. “Trust me, we're going to send you back-”

“ _No_ ,” Swan burst out then, dropping her hands. All traces of laughter had abruptly vanished. “No, I don't _trust you_ – I don't trust _any_ of you. And if you're really me than you should damn well know that! All of _this_ ,” she thrust her hand back in the direction of the town. “Fairytales and being some sort of long lost _Saviour_ and finding my _parents_ , or whatever? It's not, it's not believable. I'm not _special,_ not like that!”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Swan scoffed again, under her breath.

“The God damn _sheriff_ ,” she muttered.

“Swan, _Emma_ ,” Emma began, almost pleading – and she looked upset now, hands hanging awkwardly by her side, staring at her past self with something like nostalgia and something like horror and a good bloody lot like _wrecked_.

“Don't speak to her like that,” Killian snapped, something defensive rising up in him. Both Emmas stared at him in shock.

“Speak to _who_ like _what_?” Swan asked, “Apparently I _am_ her.”

“You bloody well know what I mean,” Killian cut in, feeling a bit like a lecturing schoolteacher; at the same time Jones muttered under his breath, “Speak to _whom_.”

Killian spared him a glance before continuing, “If you knew how hard Emma worked to get here you'd not belittle her efforts so easily! No one magically handed her a happy ending on a plate, if that's what you're thinking. She – _you_ – made it on her – _your_ – own.” He shook his head, frustrated by how complicated the pronouns were getting. “I know it's hard for you to accept at this... point in your life. But there is no need to take it out on us and there is no need to run away.”

Swan stared at him, looking surprised, then speculative. Her gaze flickered between Emma and Killian for a moment before she bit her lip almost petulantly.

“Says the guy who _regressed_ in the future.”

Killian couldn't help but flinch. The damage was done because Jones was looking at him now, that disgruntled, suspicious look on his face that he'd had back in the apartment.

“Emma,” Emma said, warningly.

“She's right,” Jones said, hesitant at first, then straightening up farther. “Given what we've seen... maybe we don't _want_ to live out this future.”

“Look, mate,” Killian replied, trying hard to sound as flat as possible, to hide the overwhelming hurt and disappointment and worst of all the fact that he couldn't help but half _agree_ with his counterpart, “We know nothing about time travel or what sort of paradoxes and problems we could cause if we _don't_ send you back.”

“You can't stay in this world,” Emma added, firmly.

Jones looked torn, glancing between Swan with her folded arms and determined pout – and since when had _they_ become friends – and Killian.

“I don't want to become a pirate,” he repeated. “I don't want to become a criminal and lose my hand and turn into the sort of person who _drinks_ his problems away.” He fixed Killian with a look that was partly unsure and mostly angry. “You know _exactly_ why.”

Killian flinched again. The thought that Jones could possibly see their father in him, that he could resemble him in any way–

_It's not true._

But hadn't he abandoned Eric?

“Liam is back in your world,” he forced out. It was a low card to play, but it was all he had left. “You can't just stay here and leave him.”

“ _Is_ he back in our world?” Jones snapped, the stress of the situation seeming to get to him, “I'm not _stupid_. He's not here, is he? He's not here because – because something's happened to him. He would _never_ let me turn into, into _that_ ,” a jabbed finger in the direction of Killian, “What was it you said? That he travelled to another realm, out of reach of the curse? Why would he go there _without me_?”

A horrible silence.

Both Jones and Swan were staring at them accusingly now.

“I'm right, aren't I?” Jones demanded. “You haven't been honest with me because you're _ashamed_. I don't know what happened. I don't _want_ to know, and I certainly don't want to _live it_.”

“You don't have a choice,” Killian managed to get out. He could see Emma staring at him with concern. She looked like she wanted to step in but didn't know what to say. “You _have_ to live through it – that's all you can do, then you'll _see_ -”

“I don't _want_ to,” Jones repeated, almost like a petulant child. “If I don't go back, if I stay here – I don't turn into you, and whatever happens to Liam, maybe it doesn't happen.”

“That's not how it works,” Emma broke in, quietly, “You can't change the past like that. You can't mess around with it.”

“What's the point of us being here then?” Swan demanded.

Emma flung her hands up, close to frustrated. “There _isn't_ a point! It was an accident!”

At which point everyone began to scream at once, voices rising loudly in the silence of the road, words tangling together to the point where Killian could barely tell what was coming out of his own mouth, let alone anyone else's–

And then the flying monkeys attacked.

 

* * *

 

 

One moment, Lieutenant Jones was shouting, letting the stress and anger and confusion of the last few hours out in a rather undignified, unfiltered display of rage that under any other circumstances he might have declared “bad form”.

The next there was a ghoulish beast swooping from the sky towards him, and before he could even begin to register what was happening, Captain Hook was tackling him to the ground, grabbing young Swan on the way.

They hit the hard tarmac with a thud, Jones gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. He caught a glimpse of the creature swooping overhead, close enough that he felt it just brush the top of his hair.

“ _What are those things?”_ Swan screamed beside him.

Hook was getting to his feet and Jones made to follow, but his older self knocked him back down with a shove of his hand.

“Stay down! You're unarmed!” he snapped.

There was a shout and Jones' head whipped around to see two of the beasts – _monkeys_ , he realised with horror; grotesque, deformed monkeys with _wings_ – approaching from the other end of the road. Emma had a weapon raised, a pistol by all accounts though it looked little like any firearm he had ever encountered – and as he watched she shot a few times at the beasts. One of them disappeared in a burst of flame as the bullet found its mark; the other dodged deftly sideways before it grabbed her arm and snatched her up.

“ _Emma_ ,” Hook yelled, a raw desperation in his voice. Before any of them could react, the monkey had swung sideways and was arcing back into the forest, Emma still struggling in its grip.

Jones scrambled to his feet, Swan holding onto his arm as she followed.

Hook was already running after Emma and the monkey, but he spun around when he heard the two of them coming after him. He had drawn a sword from his belt and now swiped angrily in their direction with his hook.

“ _Stay here_ ,” he barked.

“We can help-” Jones began, but Hook cut in again.

“I bloody _mean it_. Stay here, do not move, keep her safe!” he ordered, eyes flickering towards Swan.

For a moment Jones was stunned into silence; the other's voice held an authoritative note, a natural sort of command that reminded him of... of _Liam_ , more than anyone else.

Without waiting for a reply, he dashed off into the woods.

“Oh my God,” Swan said, and he turned to look at her. Her face was white and she was trembling, seeming almost shellshocked. “Those were...”

“Flying monkeys,” Jones replied grimly, “Likely the work of the witch they mentioned!”

Swan shook her head a few times. Jones watched her in concern. If there was truly no magic in this realm, it was likely quite the shock for her to encounter such horrible creatures. Even he, who had seen many things including the terrible ogres from afar, was a little taken aback by the hybrid creations.

Suddenly a loud, animalish screech sounded deep within the forest, followed by a spattering of loud gunshots that made Swan jump.

The soldier in Jones snapped into action. He couldn't just stand here while a fight went on – while a woman's life was in danger. Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew a dagger – Hook had thought him unarmed but was unaware that at the time he had fallen through the portal they had just made port in an unfamiliar city. He'd have been a fool not to at least carry a knife.

“Stay here,” he told Swan, heading in the direction of the sounds.

She jogged right after him. “Uh, no thank you,” she snapped.

He grabbed her arm. “You don't know how to fight.”

“Fuck you, you don't know anything about me. You don't survive on your own in this world without some skills. I can handle a _monkey_.” The bravado in her voice would have been convincing if it hadn't cracked a little on the last word. Jones didn't have the time to argue – and she was right, he didn't know her – before there was another gunshot and he sprinted in the direction of the noise, Swan following.

They burst into a clearing just in time to see Emma falling from the sky. It seemed that with the gun still in her hand she had managed to shoot the monkey that had taken her. She gave a shout of pain as she landed, one leg folding under her as she crumpled to the floor.

Hook was already close by her side.

“Are you alright? You okay?” they heard him ask from where they stood.

Before she could answer there was a flurry of wild screeching and three more monkeys swooped in from the trees. Hook instantly stepped in front of Emma, still sprawled on the ground, his sword raised protectively.

“Come on then!” he hollered, swiping at the nearest monkey. It darted back with a shriek.

He gave an admirable volley of thrusts that lopped the tail of one creature clean off, but the odds were stacked against him. As Jones and Swan watched in horror, one of the monkeys lunged towards him and knocked him clean across the clearing, where he struck a tree and fell to the ground.

“ _Killian_!” Emma shouted.

Jones took half a step forward, dagger in hand, but before he could do anything Emma had thrust out her hand and there was a sudden, blinding flash of white light.

 

* * *

 

 

Emma had no idea what she was doing.

She reacted instinctively, the magic coursing through her, coming from some deep well within that burned hot but not painful, streaking through her arm and her fingertips with a curious, almost tingling sensation.

The monkeys were blasted back, a few disappearing in the same flashes of fire that Walsh had, the rest wheeling off into the sky and flying off into the distance with a series of pained shrieks.

She fell back against the ground, panting.

_Where did that come from?_

It was almost terrifying, the fact that she hadn't been _deliberately_ trying to control it that time. Not like when she put up the barrier to protect Mr Gold, not even like when she destroyed the shadows attacking Neal and Hook back in Neverland.

 _Hook_.

She'd panicked when she saw him get sent flying.

And now she tried to get to her feet, wincing as she fell back down when pain flared through her ankle. She'd landed on it oddly when the monkey dropped her, and it was twisted at best.

“Are you okay?” Jones and Swan had rushed to her side, and she wondered what they were doing there – why they hadn't taken the chance to run off, if anything.

Jones offered her a hand up, and she let him pull her to her feet. God, it was weird, seeing Hook with two hands. Seeing him so _young_.

“I'm fine. Where's Hook?” she demanded. She took an experimental step and winced. Jones wrapped his other arm around her waist and helped her limp a few paces, Swan hovering worriedly by her other side.

“Here, love,” Hook said. She spun around to see him picking himself up from where he'd landed by the tree, rubbing the back of his head. “Just winded. I'm fine.”

She pulled out of Jones' grasp and stumbled towards Hook. Her ankle gave out on the last few steps and she half-fell forward into his chest where he grabbed her with a yelp of surprise, catching her awkwardly in his arms.

“Careful, watch the hook,” he said, a touch of panic in his tone.

Emma slapped him in the chest. “You _idiot_ , what the hell did you think you were doing?”

“I don't quite follow?”

“Did it scratch you? Remember what happened to Little John?”

He gave a hoarse laugh, pushing her back to hold her at arm's length, waiting for her to meet his eyes before he spoke.

“I'm _fine_ , love, it didn't scratch me. I'm not about to turn into a monkey.” His lips twitched and he opened his mouth and she just _knew_ he was about to make a stupid Walsh joke, so she rolled her eyes and got in first.

“Right, well, don't do that again. Moron.”

“What was I supposed to do? Run for cover and leave you sitting there defenceless?”

She raised a hand and wiggled her fingers. “Id've been fine. Magic, remember?” Studiously leaving out the fact that she had used it completely accidentally and probably wouldn't be able to do it again if pressed-

_Except maybe she would, maybe if he was in danger again-_

“Yeah, _about_ that,” Swan cut in, and Emma turned towards her. She'd nearly forgotten that they had an audience, and suddenly realised just how close she was standing to Hook, his arm still around her back, supporting her. She abruptly felt self-conscious, but couldn't quite bring herself to move away. Jones was watching them with one eyebrow raised.

“Magic?” Swan demanded.

She sounded... less angry, now. And more scared. For all her annoyance at the girl's earlier behaviour – insofar as she could be annoyed, considering it was _herself_ – Emma felt suddenly very sorry for her, and gave her a gentle smile.

“I told you,” she said softly. “Look, it took me a long time to accept it too. But like it or not, I'm the Saviour. I have magic. Hit-or-miss magic that I currently am unable to use very precisely, but...” she shrugged. “I don't... I don't like labelling myself as 'special' either. It just, it doesn't fit. Not after everything. Not after all the foster homes that certainly didn't see me as anything exceptional. Not after Neal – you'll get to that. But all this – after what the last two years have been.... Things come together. It's not something you have to be scared of.”

Swan looked down. She took a deep breath, shoulders heaving, and seemed to be deep in thought. When she did look up, it was with a small, wry smile, before she glanced between Emma and Hook.

“Well, I have my proof, at least, that in the future there's one person who'd jump in front of a bullet for me. Or, well, a flying monkey.”

Hook looked down with that flustered shyness he'd exhibited when David toasted him in Neverland.

Jones spoke before he could. “You saved her.”

“She saved herself, mate,” Hook said, flapping a hand, “I merely provided distraction.”

“You risked your life for her,” Jones continued, eyes wide, and Hook was starting to grow quite red.

“Alright, let's not get too excited now.”

Jones was smiling a bit, though, and Emma could see the wheels turning in his head. Re-evaluating his opinion of the pirate. Seeing that maybe he hadn't lost all his honour after all.

“Emma? Hook?” David's voice called out, from back through the trees were the truck was parked.

“Over here,” Emma hollered back. “We should go back to him.” She eyed Swan and Jones suspiciously. “You are still technically under arrest for stealing that truck. You gonna come quietly?”

Swan rolled her eyes. “Sure thing, _sheriff_ ,” she replied, but it was more teasing than malicious, and Emma couldn't help but smile.

She had to keep leaning on Hook's arm, keeping weight off her ankle as they walked. Swan and Jones traipsed up ahead of them, her injury slowing her down a bit. She glanced up at Hook, saw him watching his younger self. He was oddly quiet, but she fancied he didn't look as... sad, as empty, as he had before.

“Alright?” she asked quietly.

He glanced down at her. His lips twitched, but he didn't reply. Not ignoring her, just unsure what to say.

“I know I told you off but I do appreciate your grand heroic stand against the monkeys,” she said with a smirk. “Not the first time you've risked your life for me.”

“Doesn't make me a hero."

“Doesn't make you a pirate, either,” she said, letting her gaze drift to Jones' retreating back. “I think he sees that. I'm more concerned about _you_ seeing it,” she added, emphatically, and nudged his side with her elbow.

He chuckled. “If anyone's a pirate, it's your younger self there.”

“Oh God, don't start.”

“You guys okay?” David asked as they emerged from the trees. His eyes flew to Emma's limp and widened in concern. “What happened?”

“We had a run in with some of Zelena's monkeys,” Emma said tiredly. “Dealt with it, though. I think everyone's ready to go back to town.”

“That's good,” David said, “Because Mary Margaret and Belle found a way to reopen that portal.”

Unwilling to drive with her ankle injured as it was, Emma ended up in the truck with David, while Swan drove the bug back with Jones and Killian riding as passengers. She couldn't help but smile briefly as she wondered what the conversation in that vehicle was going to be like.

“Are you alright?” David asked quietly, when they were halfway back.

She gave a tired sigh, running her hands over her face. “Fine. Exhausted, and I'll be very glad to see the back of myself, but... I'm fine.”

He bit his lip, looking over at her. “I didn't realise...” He trailed off, seeming unsure how to phrase it.

She knew what he meant. One of the greatest difficulties in accepting her parents had been the disconnect; the fact that they _didn't_ know her story – hadn't been there to see her growing up, to understand her hardships. That no matter how much they tried to, they could never quite see exactly how damaged the foster system had left her. How much Neal had broken her.

It went two ways, though. She'd seen that in Neverland, all the parts of Mary Margaret's life she hadn't even begun to fathom. She really needed to just sit down and read Henry's book one day.

“It's fine,” she replied, softly. “I found my parents, in the end.” She reached out and pressed his arm where it rested on the steering wheel, and he gave a small smile.

“Hook though,” he said then, a rather obvious attempt to change the topic, and she scoffed out a laugh.

“He'll be okay.”

“In the _Navy_. Who'd have thought.”

“He's not just a pirate. Never was.” She bit her lip. “This sucked for both of us, but he'll be fine. _We'll_ be fine. And... they'll be fine, in the end.”

 

* * *

 

 

If anything it was the look on Mary Margaret's face when they arrived back in town that really got to Emma, because the way she looked at Swan – a mix of longing and sadness and self-deprecation – it reminded her acutely of what they'd both missed out on thanks to fate and circumstance and Regina. She pushed it away, though, reminded herself that all they could look to was the future now.

“Good! You're back!” Belle said. She cast Swan and Jones an unashamedly curious glance before pressing a strange looking wand into Emma's hand. “I found this in the store. It should be able to recreate any magic. You just have to work it.”

“Uhh, can we get Regina here? I'm not sure I know how,” Emma said, pointing the wand vaguely about.

“She's out,” Belle replied with a slightly sheepish grin. “You'll be fine, just focus your magic the way you usually do.”

Emma stared down at the wand, but she felt suddenly awkward, acutely aware of everyone watching her. Especially Swan, her sharp eyes fixed on her, waiting to see what would happen.

She closed her eyes, trying to channel her magic, but it wasn't working – she'd never done it like _this_ before, without some sort of panic or raw emotion.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her arm. Her eyes snapped open and she turned to see David, smiling at her reassuringly, his hand gently holding onto her just above the elbow. Mary Margaret came up on her other side, slipping her hand into Emma's free one. Emma smiled at them both. Glanced to the side and saw Swan looking at them with something like envy and something almost like hope in her eyes.

She focused again. Didn't close her eyes this time, stared instead at the spot on the road where Zelena had first been messing about. She felt _something_ stir in her, slow like a dull ember. It wasn't until her gaze snapped up and she met Hook's eyes across the street, saw him give a small smile, that it _sparked_ , and suddenly the wand was hot and glowing in her hand, and a small swirling spiral of green appeared in the middle of the road, slowly beginning to grow larger.

“You did it!” Belle said triumphantly.

“I did it,” Emma repeated, and Mary Margaret whooped, David grinning and squeezing her arm before stepping back.

“Okay, we don't have much time once that portal forms completely.” Belle held up two small bottles. “A memory potion. You two need to take it – you can't remember _any_ of this, or it'll mess with the time line. You didn't give them anything, did you? Nothing from this time that could cause trouble?”

“No,” Swan said, and grinned, “No lottery numbers, though not for lack of trying.”

Emma laughed. “You be careful back there,” she said, and Swan nodded.

Emma half felt like she ought to hug her younger self, but she knew that she hadn't been the hugging type back then – still wasn't, not really and only with select people – so when she pressed the bottle into Swan's hand, she just reached out, squeezed her arm. Still found it strange that it was _herself_ she was talking to when she said, “You'll be fine. _I'm_ fine.”

“Good,” Swan said, and then to Emma's surprise, pushed past her and walked up to Mary Margaret and David. “Uh, hi. We didn't really get the chance to talk.”

“No,” Mary Margaret said, looking a little startled but half shy and hopeful at the same time. “No, we, we didn't. I wish we could have had more time.” And she looked sad again, then, and now Swan looked sad too, “Emma, I.... you won't remember this, but we never wanted to give you up. Know that, at least for these few moments, you were wanted – you'll _always_ be wanted.”

Swan nodded, swallowing, eyes shining. She nodded towards Mary Margaret's stomach. “Well, congratulations, I guess.” A wry grin. “I look forward to meeting him or her in ten years' time.”

Mary Margaret laughed, and looked very close to crying. Emma stepped back and put her arm around her, feeling a little close to tears herself.

Hook and Jones had been standing in silence, darting each other glances now and then. Neither of them quite seemed to know what to say.

“It's not easy,” Hook said finally, quietly, “I'm not proud of a lot of it. But you don't... _I don't_...”

“You don't need to justify yourself to me,” Jones cut in, stiffly. “I was... scared, because I looked at you and I saw our father, but I was mistaken. Before, in the forest, that wasn't him. That was Liam and... and _me_ , you don't lose me.”

Hook nodded. Clapped him briefly on the shoulder.

“Watch out for crocodiles,” he said grimly, and Jones glanced at his hook with wide eyes.

“Oh, hell, is that how?"

“You'll see when you come to it,” Hook replied – and Emma couldn't help but feel proud that he was even able to _joke_ about it – Jones smiled briefly before turning to the portal, which was quite large by now. Everyone uninvolved took a few steps back to avoid accidentally being pulled in.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Swan,” Jones said, almost yelling to be heard above the portal's roar.

“And yourself, Commodore,” she replied.

“ _Lieutenant_.”

“Right, sorry. I guess I'll see you in the future then,” she said, with a grin, and Jones nodded, and they both glanced at Emma and Hook with a knowing sort of look that made Emma feel vaguely embarrassed, like being caught out in front of a kid sister.

“Bottoms up then,” Swan said, and they both drained the memory potion before jumping into the portal.

It closed behind them almost instantly, tendrils of green dissipating into the road before disappearing as though nothing had even been there, leaving them standing in the middle of the empty street.

“Well then,” Hook said, after a moment of silence, “That was eventful.”

Emma barked out a laugh, feeling a rush of relief that things were back to normal, that everything was back where it belonged. Belle was smiling, moving off, and Mary Margaret and David had their arms around each other.

Emma swallowed. She'd been caught up in how hard this had been for herself, but after seeing Swan speaking to her parents she realised it must be just as difficult for them – seeing their child as a teenager, a phase of her life when she'd needed them most and they'd been unable to be there for her.

What they needed right now – for tonight – was to be a family.

“Come on,” she said then, “I'll pick up Henry and we can go back to the loft. Have a night in for once. I swear Zelena better not show her face after this day we've had.”

David nodded, Mary Margaret smiling with something almost like relief, and they headed back towards the apartment. Emma took a step to follow when she saw Hook hanging back awkwardly, half-turning to leave and go back to Granny's. She skipped after him quickly, caught him by the arm.

“That included you, you know.”

He turned to her, eyebrow raised, hiding uncertainty under sarcasm, and she rolled her eyes.

“I mean it. Least I can do in exchange for past-me dragging past-you off on a larcenous adventure.”

He grinned, and offered her his arm with exaggerated chivalry.

“Miss Swan,” he said, bowing his head and brushing an imaginary ponytail back over his shoulder.

She rolled her eyes again, biting back a laugh.

“Lieutenant Jones,” she replied, with an attempt at a curtsey that just caused her to curse when her ankle twinged, and looped her hand through the crook of his elbow, and they walked back to the apartment together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and commented! I hope you liked my exploration of a very silly little idea, most of which was written on the bus, haha :) <3


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